


Never Ever

by forgetme



Category: The Good Place (TV)
Genre: Can be read as gen, Gen, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Mentions of Death, Post-Canon, Pre-Slash, Spoilers, but I kind of ship it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:34:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22511050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forgetme/pseuds/forgetme
Summary: Post series spoilers!Michael & Shawn after the series finale. Kind of post-canon AU.
Relationships: Michael & Shawn (The Good Place), Michael/Shawn (The Good Place)
Comments: 39
Kudos: 230





	Never Ever

When his wife passes away, losing her brief but brutal battle with cancer, Joseph is destroyed. Destroyed? Is that the right word? Is that something a human would say in this context? Michael wonders.

Well, he is a human now and he said it – or at least thought it – so it must be.

Anyway, Joseph _is_ destroyed. Not in the way Michael has seen countless humans be destroyed – physically – their bodies torn to shreds or crushed into a lumpy red-orange pulp – and Michael will forever have a picture of Shawn scraping it off his shoes with a fountain pen, his expression a mix of annoyance, disgust and boredom, edged into his memory. But Joseph is destroyed in that other way Michael has only been beginning to understand over the last couple hundred Jeremy Bearimies.

Joseph opens the door to his apartment bleary-eyed after Michael has been knocking for about forty minutes. His face is blotchy and bloated and he is wearing sweatpants and a blue t-shirt with a chicken in a sombrero on it – it’s exactly the kind of thing Michael would have loved to add to his weird human things collection in his demon life – but now it doesn’t even make him smile because his friend looks so miserable. Joseph smells bad too. 

“Hey,” Michael says. That’s a good, neutral thing to say, and then he has run out of things to say. Everything else, he’s tried already. Immediately after, when Joseph called him from the hospital, weeping on the phone, and a little later at the funeral, when Joseph stood in front of the grave, still weeping. For such a small man, he contains a surprising amount of liquid, humans generally do though.

“I made casserole.” This is something he has seen on tv and read about in books and magazines. Casserole. It’s apparently what you bring when something horrible happens. The one in his hands is chicken bacon ranch; he searched for a recipe online and after clicking past all the pornsite ads, it was the first thing to come up. Michael only needed four tries until he produced an edible result. And he only called for Janet once before remembering. It’s been happening less and less and he is proud of himself for it. He’s really getting the hang of this being human thing.

Joseph steps aside and opens the door wide. He doesn’t say anything; he looks as though he is about to start weeping again and Michael’s heart aches with the desire to tell him that everything will be okay in the long run. That he will see Sue again in the afterlife, that there is an eternity of peace and happiness waiting for them, that Michael knows this. However, he already tried a version of this before, which only led to Joseph telling him, _sorry, I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but I’m not religious._

_But I was there! I saw it! Heck, I helped create it!_

Michael knows he can’t say that, even though it’s true, even though it would make Joseph feel so much better if he could just know what Michael knows. But he can’t and thus Joseph has to suffer this horrible grief. Like all humans do.

Plus, Michael himself doesn’t know for sure anymore. Jason, Chidi and Eleanor are _gone_. Who knows what will be waiting for him when he dies.

 _Janet_ , he thinks. _Shawn._

All that stuff he’s feeling lately, as a demon, he couldn’t have even imagined it.

***

Days, weeks and months go by and Michael is still fascinated by the linearity and finality of Earth time. For humans, there is only ever one of each day, one February 1st, 2020, and when it’s over, it’s _over._ Try your luck with February 2nd, 2020.

Joseph is gradually improving. He still cries a lot, at random things that remind him of Sue, and Michael surprises himself one day by tearing up at the sight of a man dressed in a shrimp costume handing out flyers for some all you can eat event. He takes Joseph to the all you can eat thing, which is a roaring success that leads to Michael experiencing food poisoning for the first time.

***

“This giant asshole has moved into our building, have you met him?” Joseph asks. He is having one of his better days today. Michael didn’t even have to nag all that hard to get him to come along to that frozen yoghurt place he likes to go to when he’s feeling nostalgic.

It’s a sunny day and they’re sitting outside. Joseph is stabbing angrily at his pink cherry flavor fro-yo, sending a couple of sprinkles flying as he hacks away at it.

“No, I don’t think so,” Michael says evenly. “I didn’t even know someone new moved in.”

“He drives this red Porsche.” Joseph rolls his eyes and Michael can’t help but remember that the Porsche alone is negative 250 points. “He almost ran over Shelly this morning!”

Upon hearing her name, Shelly raises her adorable little head. She’s a poodle mix Joseph adopted a couple of weeks ago. Michael helped him name her. The almost running over a dog thing, that’s negative 520. He raises his eyebrows.

“Huh. He sounds awful.”

“You can say that again. When I asked him what the hell he was thinking, he just shouted, _Suck it, nerd_ and drove off through a puddle, spraying me. I don’t even know where the damn puddle came from, it hasn’t rained for days!”

“Huh,” Michael repeats, not sure what to think about that light tingle of expectation skipping up his spine.  
***

Later that evening, there’s a knock on his door.

Michael’s not expecting anyone, so this might be a Jehovah’s witness or just someone trying to sell him something he doesn’t need. He’s not sure which option he finds more exciting. Both are thrilling.

He gets up from the couch, smooths down his polo shirt, walks over to the door and opens it.

And there’s Shawn, staring at him with his piercing blue eyes, smirking.

“Hello, Michael.”

Michael blinks because he can’t believe what he’s seeing.

“Shawn? What are you doing here?”

Shawn shrugs, smirk still firmly in place. “I live here now,” he says, “I’m human.”

Great, now Michael also can’t believe what he’s hearing. He looks Shawn up and down. Shawn looks like he always has, same suit, same tie, same horrible attitude and aura of general meanness, and yet Michael instinctively knows that he’s telling the truth.

“What? But… why?”

“Why?” Shawn echoes, incredulous. “Did you really think you could just take off and leave me there with _Vicky_ and _Tahani_?” He says their names like he would say _puppies_ and _rainbows_ , almost gagging, that is. “I can’t listen to those chicks discuss acting and namedrop Johnny Depp and Brad Pitt for another eternity. So I made a deal with the judge. You’re not the only one who gets to do what he wants.”

“But you never wanted this!” Michael makes a vague gesture with his hand, meant to encompass, gee, he’s not even a hundred percent sure what, all that being human entails: confusing feelings, not understanding the internet, waking up already tired some days, never having the right thing to wear, death.

Shawn merely quirks an eyebrow. “Well, you want it and I want to be better than you. Just so you know, I drive a Porsche, so I’m already kicking your ass at this dumb being human thing. Suck it, dingus.”

He looks… proud of himself and so satisfied. Michael does not get it. If ever he had viewed a being as eternal it was Shawn. First as the demon he aspired to be, then the demon he aspired to surpass, then the antagonist he had to defeat and then, finally, at the end… he didn’t even know what they were at the end. But maybe the thing that came closest was the ingenious human concept of _frenemies._

Michael thought they would be frenemies forever.

Now he thinks of a door in a picturesque forest and his heart constricts.

“But…you’ll die, Shawn,” he says, a tiny quiver in his voice.

“So? If you can do it, I can do it. What? You think I’m afraid of death? Tch, think again, dumbass.” There’s defiance in his voice but also, underneath the bravado, something small and vulnerable. It makes Michael think of every time he had to say goodbye to a friend, of standing in the forest himself, unable to pass through the door. It makes him step across the threshold now and wrap his arms around Shawn.

“What are you doing?” Shawn squawks, scandalized. He is stiff and awkward in Michael's embrace, which is warm and dry and uncomfortable.

“I’m hugging you,” Michael says.

“Well, you suck at it,” growls Shawn, even as he relaxes somewhat, and his arms come up to return the hug, which makes it a lot better.

“I know, buddy,” Michael murmurs, “but we’ve got the rest of our lives to figure it out.”


End file.
